"There she was! The woman walking down the Riva del Carbon, entering the café. Only she could have written that note—that handsome woman, tall and slim, wrapped in fur, striding imperiously toward him now through the maze of tight-packed tables. And as she neared, Breuer saw that she was young, perhaps even younger than Bertha, possibly a schoolgirl. But that commanding presence—extraordinary! It would carry her far!" Page 3

"How I wish! But not in this decade, Josef. I've no time even to think. The only thing a clinical aspirant at the Vienna General Hospital has ever written is a postcard. No, I was thinking, not of writing, but of reading these books. Oh, the endless labor of the intellectual—pouring all this knowledge into the brain through a three-millimeter aperture in the iris." Page 37